


5 Times Gentiana Felt Almost Human and One Time She Did Not

by TheWanderingAvarian



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Motherly Gentiana, So much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 20:36:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14940966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWanderingAvarian/pseuds/TheWanderingAvarian
Summary: Gentiana was a High Messenger of the Gods. That was her duty, her purpose, her very being. She had been alive for centuries and always she had abided by the rules of her creators, bent to their will. She had never found it necessary to feel as humans did. But one person, only one in thousands of people, changed that for her—Lunafreya Nox Fleuret.





	5 Times Gentiana Felt Almost Human and One Time She Did Not

Gentiana had been waiting for this moment for some time: the moment that the Oracle that would work side by side with the Chosen King would be born. She and her brethren had known that the time would soon come when this moment took place, but now, as she stood by the window and listened to the mewling whines of the newly-born child, she fully understood what had come to pass. It was without hesitance that Gentiana revealed her presence to Sylva Nox Fleuret—she knew that the woman would swiftly realise her true nature and grant her the appropriate respect.

The Oracle did gasp slightly as Gentiana revealed herself, clutching her small child more tightly to her, before she realised who exactly she was in the presence of. Then she relaxed, settling back into her pillows and smiling warmly at Gentiana, waving her over to her side. Sylva Nox Fleuret was a very warm person, Gentiana noted, so much so she almost reminded her of someone else she had known very well, a long time ago…

As Gentiana drifted over to Sylva’s side, she cradled her baby in her arms, whispering quietly to it as it continued to sob. Gentiana peered over the child that would play such a large part in the future of the world. The baby was a small, scrunched-up looking creature, its face an alarming red, with a full set of golden curls already fully-formed on its head. Gentiana had never really fully appreciated why people seemed to find babies so adorable.

“You’ve come to see her, haven’t you High Messenger?” asked Sylva, looking up at her with wide, brilliant eyes.

“My name is Gentiana, Lady Sylva,” said Gentiana, tilting her head in Sylva’s direction. “I have indeed come to see your child. She will have an important part to play in the future of this star.”

“That is good news indeed!” said Sylva with an exhausted laugh, she seemed to be in high spirits. “Do you hear that Luna? You’ve been chosen by the Gods!”

Gentiana smiled down at her. It was heartening to see such faith even in the midst of such misery.

“Would you like to hold her?” asked Sylva, looking up at her and lifting the baby in her hands.

“I—” began Gentiana, taken slightly off-guard by this request.

How long had it been since people had asked her to bless their children, and hold them safe in her arms?

“I would,” said Gentiana, leaning carefully over to take the baby in her arms, gently supporting its head as she lifted it from its mother’s grasp.

It had been such a long time. As she gazed down at the baby—Luna, Sylva had called her, she slowly began to stop her crying, and instead gazed up at Gentiana in wonder, as though she were the only person on the star. Her tiny hands reached out to grasp at the ends of Gentiana’s long hair, and, for the first time in a long time, Gentiana felt a gentle warmth in her soul at the innocent curiosity of the child. Perhaps this was what it was like to be human?

She glanced over at Sylva, who had sat up in her bed, and was smiling warmly as she watched Luna play with Gentiana’s hair.

“I think she likes you,” said Sylva, a touch of laughter in her voice.

“Perhaps,” said Gentiana, a bemused smiled playing across her face as she looked back down at Luna.

The child seemed mesmerised by her hair, and gradually, her eyes began to close, lapsing gently into sleep. Gentiana handed her back to her mother, who took her with a tired adoration. The Oracle was clearly still recovering from bringing her into the world. Nevertheless, she still looked up at Gentiana with a subdued smile, cradling the sleeping Luna in her arms once more.

“You cannot know how your presence gladdens me, Gentiana,” she said, relaxing back onto the bed.

“Not at all Lady Sylva, your child shall be a blessing to all of Eos,” said Gentiana stepping back from where the Oracle lay resting, her eyes glazing over slightly as Gentiana willed herself to disappear.

“Thank you, Gentiana,” she murmured, as Gentiana vanished into the unknown.

* * *

Some of her fellows would consider it undignified to sit and watch over the children of mortals, but as Gentiana sat tall in a white-painted chair, the sun shining brightly overhead and the flowers swaying gently in the breeze, she could think of no place she would rather be. The baby that she had visited on the day of her birth—Lunafreya, as she was now known, had grown into a quiet, studious child, usually quite unconcerned with the goings-on of the world around her—with the exception of whatever it was her brother was doing.

The two of them at that moment were playing in the endless fields of sylleblossoms, the older, Ravus, taunting his sister, holding the ball they were using to play catch high over his head, as she tried to pull it out of his hands. Gentiana allowed a rare smile to pass over her face. Something about the children soothed her, in a way that few earthly things could anymore. The world was growing ever darker outside the glowing confines of Fenestala Manor. The Lady Sylva was inside, staring blankly into her gradually cooling tea, not drinking, not thinking, not doing anything really.

Gentiana did not quite understand the sensation of grief as mortals did. She knew that she would never die, and that the world beyond the one which mortals inhabited was not so empty and terrifying as many of them seemed to believe. Sylva would be reunited with her husband one day. Gentiana knew this with an unwavering certainty, and she would have said as much, if the rules did not prevent her from doing so. Gentiana had to follow the rules. Without them she wouldn’t exist at all. So Sylva sat alone with her tea, while Gentiana watched as Luna got the upper hand over Ravus, kicking him in the shins in a very un-Oracle-like way. It wasn’t like Sylva would be like this forever, after all. The lives of mortals were so untenably short.

* * *

Gentiana didn’t understand grief like mortals did, but as Luna sat by her feet, sobbing uncontrollably into her skirt, she felt a bit closer to it than she had before. She placed one hand carefully on the girl’s head, gently running her fingers through her hair, as she had seen Sylva do countless times before, and attempted to comfort her in as familiar way as possible. Luna’s crying did not cease at this action, in fact it only seemed to get worse, and she was clearly entirely unable to speak, all of her emotions pouring out of her at once.

Gentiana had never seen Luna cry like this before, even when she was a baby, and for the first time in a very long time, Gentiana felt the faintest stirrings of anger in her heart. The Gods were not allowed to intervene in mortal affairs, such were the rules, but beings such as herself—neither God nor mortal, what were the rules for them? Gentiana knew better than to feel guilty that she had been unable to prevent Sylva’s death, such things were far beyond her power. But sitting there, with Luna, the girl she had watched over since birth, distraught beyond words, she allowed the anger to brew in her heart, anger at how Niflheim had already begun to destroy the world she loved, anger at how her...prodigy, was being made to suffer.

Gradually, very gradually, Luna’s sobs began to calm and grow weaker, but anger still sat in Gentiana’s chest like a stone, the first strong emotions she’d had in such a long time, and it almost consumed her. She tried to force herself to calm down, soon she would surely be breaking the rules, and as Luna looked up at her with puffy red eyes, her nose streaming from the emotion of her sobs, a different emotion took its place. Gentiana had never considered herself to be a maternal person, and certainly, Luna wasn’t her daughter, but the only word she could find to describe her feelings at that moment was ‘motherly’.

She slowly reached out and brushed the tears from Luna’s eyes, even as she continued to sniff pitifully.

“I’m sorry, Gentiana,” she hiccuped, still breathless. “I’ve—ruined, your clothes.”

“It matters not little one,” said Gentiana, brushing the stray hairs off Luna’s face. “Clothes matter little to me.”

Luna rested her head against Gentiana’s leg, breathing deeply and blinking furiously, willing herself to stop crying. And for a moment they simply stayed like that, not a word between them as they both pondered on what had been lost.

“Gentiana?”

“Yes, Lady Lunafreya?”

“Will it ever go away?”

“Will what go away?”

“The emptiness.”

Gentiana sighed slightly, and reached back down to begin stroking Luna’s head once more.

“In time,” said Gentiana, looking at the portrait of Floris, still hanging high on the wall, and remembering Sylva, with her tea. “It will never fully leave you, you’ll always feel something not quite right in your heart, like reaching out for something you can't see, something you can never quite touch. But in time you’ll reach less and less, until you can't remember why you were reaching at all. Time heals. Never forget that, Lady Lunafreya.”

Somewhere, deep in the back of her mind, she could remember a blazing warmth, and a tender smile, and for a moment she could almost feel herself reaching out as well. But then Luna looked up with her with an expression that would always remain emblazoned on her mind from that moment on. A great, almost irrepressible hope—and a deep, sincere belief in her. And for one slow, strange moment, Gentiana almost wished she didn’t, that Luna didn’t believe in her, and wasn’t a child of prophecy, and instead that she was simply a normal child, and that Gentiana was a normal…

But no, it did no good to think such things. Gentiana was the High Messenger of the Gods, and Lunafreya was the Oracle, destined to help the Chosen King. That was how things were, and how they would always be, and there wasn’t anything anyone else could do to change it. Or, at least, so she hoped.

* * *

 Clouds were brewing overhead on the day of the ceremony, but Luna still stood tall, undaunted by the threat of ill-weather. Gentiana stood on the sidelines, just out of sight of the huge congregation that had gathered to witness the ascension of the new Oracle. Luna was wearing an elaborate white robe, so cumbersome it would easily prevent her from running, with no way to escape if anything were to go wrong. Not that anything would. Gentiana would make sure of that. Thunder began to roll from overhead, as Luna began her speech.

“People of Tenebrae,” she began, her voice ringing out loud and clear over the crowd. “Too long have you lived in fear and pain without an Oracle to heal you, too long has the darkness been able to spread over our lands and choke out the light…”

There were murmurs of agreement from the throng, and Gentiana felt another emotion that was becoming increasingly familiar to her as the years passed: pride. Luna’s life was difficult, of that there was no question, and even with all of her assistance, Gentiana still could not provide her with true safety. And yet, there she was, standing tall, facing down the Empire as it watched her triumph, not a trace of fear on her face. She was still afraid, of course, Gentiana had seen how she trembled just before she walked out to face her people, who had for so long been forsaken by the Gods. But now there no way to tell—she appeared strong, untouchable—divine, almost.

Gentiana knew it was something akin to treachery to think such things, but she had long since stopped caring. Her patron’s body was long dead, and now she only came through in the briefest flashes, so Gentiana allowed herself the freedom of things such as pride. And truly, had ever a person deserved such emotion from her as the one standing before her now? Luna had come so far, and fought so hard for this moment—the youngest Oracle in history, and Gentiana was so very proud of her. If only she could tell her.

But as Luna’s speech came to an end, and she glanced ever so briefly back at where Gentiana stood, concealed behind a curtain, and smiled, Gentiana smiled back. And perhaps she didn’t have to tell her after all. Perhaps she already knew.

* * *

Luna leaned back in her chair, her eyes listlessly flicking back and forth, as she tried to work out where she was. Gentiana held her hand tightly in her own.

“It will soon pass Lady Lunafreya, calm your mind so I can soothe you,” she said, applying a touch of cold to Luna’s hand in an attempt to distract her from her pain. Shiva’s presence was always there now, just in the back of her mind. The time would come soon, she could sense it.

“It...hurts,” said Luna, her words slurred, as her brain was lit on fire by the power of the Gods.

“I know, I know,” she said, gently brushing the hair out of Luna’s face, the warmth of her forehead almost burning to the touch. “Only one more, and then nothing more will be asked of you.”

Their boat rocked to and fro on the waves, and never before had Gentiana felt such resentment towards Leviathan as she did at that moment. That was another emotion she wasn’t supposed to have. Shiva, perhaps, would be allowed it. Gods were allowed to be angry at other Gods, but she, a mere Messenger, a mere vessel, was not allowed such things. She felt more like a human than a God now. A mere plaything, a cursed object. She applied more of the cold to Luna’s forehead, hoping to bring down her fever.

“Thank you, Gentiana,” she said, her eyes cracking open slightly, bloodshot veins surrounding her irises. “You know I do this willingly.”

“I do,” said Gentiana, but for a moment, for a fleeting treacherous moment, she wished she didn’t, so that Gentiana could whisk her away to safety, and they could be happy, and Luna could live.

It was only a moment, but for the first time in a millennia Gentiana felt...grief: a pervasive, all-consuming grief, for the girl that would never grow old, never see the light of dawn as the world was saved, never live in peace again. Gentiana had never understood grief like humans did. Until now.

“Don’t cry Gentiana,” said Luna, reaching out and brushing away her tears, as Gentiana had done to her, so many years ago. “It will be over soon.”

“Yes. Yes, it will.”

* * *

Gentiana had always known there was a price for breaking the rules, for freedom, for learning how to care. But as she watched as the Accursed began to stroll leisurely up towards Luna, towards her daughter, she had never realised the price would be so high. It always felt as though the world began to move in slow motion when Shiva came to her, but never had the sensation been accompanied by such a feeling of horror, than when she tried to appear at Luna’s side. The world came to an absolute standstill, as ice filled her veins, her heart, her very soul.

Shiva was here now, and Shiva knew how the Accursed could enslave the Gods, Shiva knew that the Oracle had completed the prophecy, and Shiva knew that the Oracle was destined to die. But what Shiva didn’t know was how Luna used to smile and laugh as Gentiana brushed her long hair, how Luna had wept on the day her brother disappeared, how Luna had fought and fought and fought against the Empire, against fate, against all the odds in the world stacked against her to bring the Ring to Altissia, and see the covenants forged in her name. Shiva didn’t know how much Luna had sacrificed for the Gods, and soon neither would anyone else, because Gentiana could feel herself falling to pieces.

Everything was cold, everything was empty, everything was so very, very bright. Could Messengers die? She’d never had to think about it before. There were torturous flickers of consciousness as the last of her soul took flight, and she could see the Accursed standing over Luna with a dagger, had to watch as he drove it deep into her stomach, unable to scream, as Shiva displaced her very being. Then there was only light, and Gentiana was standing alone in the silence.

For once, she had no idea what to do. So she just stood, feeling numb, and unreal. Then she felt something land on her head. Reaching up, the petals of a sylleblossom flower came loose in her hand, and she looked up at the sky in confusion. Soon she felt more petals, coming from behind her, and as she turned to look, she saw someone approaching in the distance. The person was wearing only white, and her long blonde hair flowed out behind her as she approached Gentiana, who was still standing motionless. For a moment she thought it was Sylva, but as the woman approached, she became smaller, and younger, and as she finally stood right in front of Gentiana, she was a young girl, no more than twelve, wearing a short white dress.

“Luna,” she said, her voice choked by tears.

“Come on Gentiana,” said Luna, reaching out to grasp her hand. “There’s something I want to show you.”

And she began walking forward, and as she did, the world of blinding brightness faded away, into a field of endless blue flowers. And Gentiana began to walk behind her, a gentle breeze blowing at her back.

**Author's Note:**

> I've waiting to write this fic for a while. Gentiana is a very complicated, and very confusing character. I have personally always seen her as a being separate from Shiva, a vessel, but still not a human. As such, I also believe she cares about Luna, albeit, not without reservations. I doubt the Astrals would view this with kindliness. I also don't think she was necessarily the best caretaker—what with knowing Luna would suffer and all, but, I do enjoy a good tragedy, and nothing is more tragic than unintentionally, and perhaps unwillingly leading someone to their doom.


End file.
